Teaching Moments
by whitchry9
Summary: Written for a prompt in which Sherlock has to give a lecture.


Written for the prompt:

Memo

To: Sherlock Holmes

From: Dominic Tyler, Executive Director, Saint Bartholomew's Hospital

Date: 2012 09 29

Re: Continued Usage of Our Facilities

Message

We are pleased that you have found our facilities useful in your scientific endeavors up until this point. However, due to budget cutbacks, we will, from this point onwards, be requiring payment for your use of these amenities. Alternatively, however, we would be delighted to have you speak to our incoming doctors and nurses on the topics of your experiments and discoveries in the stead of payment. Please let me know which option is your chosen one, and attach example speaking notes if it be the latter. Thank you for your time, and we hope that Barts can continue to serve you in the future.

Sherlock didn't know they had found out he was using a lab, and wasn't sure he wanted to right now.

But any way, he was now going to be giving a lecture to some of the pitiful minds of the future. How dull. At least he should be able to improve some of them. There could be hope.

It was a lecture or paying. This was preferable. For him anyway. John seemed... horrified would be a good word, when Sherlock informed him of his upcoming lecture date. Sherlock couldn't imagine why. He was a wealth of information, and would be a fascinating lecturer. When he told John this, he snorted.

But that was then, and Sherlock had prepared a lecture on bruising patterns and how to tell if they were post mortem or not, and what they were caused by.

He might even take them to the mortuary for a demonstration. He frowned. He probably should have asked Molly about that.

He whipped his phone out and sent her a quick text.

Have any bodies for this afternoon? -SH

No, I'm going to a lecture. -Molly

He frowned. Why? He practically dismissed her with a wave of his hand, deleting the text as he did.

Nevertheless, he could always pick the lock. Probably not best to show to the students. Didn't want to be to blame for some of them going wrong. On the other hand, London was running out of clever criminals. He was rather bored. But no. John would not approve.

Maybe another time. He would have to make do.

The students looked dull. He could tell. That was what he does after all. (63 students. 39 of them female, 23 of them male, and there was one he wasn't entirely sure of. 12 surgeons, 6 pediatricians, 4 A&E doctors, 27 nurses of assorted areas, 2 mortuary technicians, 1 forensic specialist, 7 internal medicine specialists, and 4 people that could have been anything from ambulance drivers to lab techs. They were dressed in street clothes and sitting near the back.) But... oh. That was what Molly meant when she had to go to a lecture. _His _lecture. (Stupid. Obvious. Why? Sentiment. Of course.) He shook his head.

"Bruising," he began. "What do we know about it. You," he said, pointing to a more than dull but less than sparkly female in the front row. (Overeager. Father left at an early age. Difficulty forming meaningful relationships. Has a number of fish and a cat that insists on trying to eat them. One of them died this morning, but it wasn't the cat's fault. Likely one of the other fish. Like her tea like John does.) He continued, "go, don't be boring."

She looked stunned. Not surprising. People, especially women, tended to do that. He smiled, not sincerely, but she wouldn't be able to tell. He nodded a little, as to say _go on. _

She began, stuttering slightly, rambling on about broken blood vessels and cleaning. He nodded occasionally, approvingly, imploring her to keep going. When she slowed down and seemed to have nothing left to say, he rose from the desk he was sitting on, and, in a few long strides, reached the door and exited the room.

He could hear them muttering, twittering amongst themselves and smiled. He did enjoy when they were several steps behind, but supposed it would be frowned upon. He would only be gone for a moment though.

When he returned the whispering stopped. They were all instead staring at him, or rather, the riding crop he was carrying. He smiled broadly. "Any volunteers?"


End file.
